


Neal

by AnnieVH



Series: Don't Come Back [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:23:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieVH/pseuds/AnnieVH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal’s first day in school isn’t so bad. Tagged Rumbelle for overall verse, but Belle doesn’t show up in this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neal

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: past domestic abuse (including psychological, verbal and sexual), past child abuse, terrible parenting all around. Anti-Milah, anti-Malcolm. Rated mature just for safety.
> 
> Verse: Don’t Come Back, a Behind Closed Doors remix
> 
> Beta: MaddieBonanaFana

“Neal Cassidy, is that it?”

Rumple checked to see Bae's reaction. The boy stretched his neck to look at the student file, where his new name had been typed, right next to the place where his picture was supposed to go. He looked curious, but not bothered.

“Yes,” Rumple answered to Mother Superior. “That's him.”

“I've never had a student require an alias before,” she said, going over Bae's documentation and school records a second time. Judging by the way her lips were pressed together, she didn't find the situation ideal. “However,” she continued, “Mr. Gold was _adamant_ about it.”

“It's a... delicate situation,” Rumple said, as a sort of explanation.

“So I've been told. Although, I was not given nearly as many details as I'd have liked.”

Bae kicked the floor and didn't look at her. Rumple fidgeted, but didn't volunteer any more information either. When the silence started to get awkward, Mother Superior sighed, defeated, “Very well, I see no harm in it.”

“And his paperwork will be in your office, yes?”

“I'll handle everything related to your son myself. As requested,” she added, a bitter note to her voice. This had probably been a demand, rather than a request. She got up from her chair. “I'll go get your schedule.”

“She doesn't look very happy about it,” Bae said, after she left the office.

“I assume your grandfather didn't exactly say 'please' when he asked her to make an exception.”

“And I don't think nuns like to lie very much.”

“It's a white lie.”

“I know.” He eyed his new student ID. Fake name, no picture. “Neal Cassidy.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it's cool. It's better than Baelfire.”

“What's wrong with Baelfire? I like it.”

“Nobody's called Baelfire, dad.”

“That's what makes it special.”

“Yeah, but Neal is more... normal.”

Rumple wrinkled his nose at it. It wasn't a bad name, but he wished he'd been included in the process of renaming his own child. Malcolm had his lawyer choose it before they even arrived, deeming it “Something bland, that people won't really remember or think too much of.” Milah would never think of looking for them in Storybrooke, she knew how volatile the relationship between Malcolm and Rumple was. But, if the thought occurred to her, and she called the school looking for Baelfire Gold, she'd reach a dead end. As far as keeping his son safe went, it wasn't a bad plan. And it would keep people from associating Bae to the Gold name. Malcolm hadn't said that was one of the reasons, but he didn't have to. Rumple knew just how much he hated the idea of being a grandfather. It was a surprise he hadn't asked _him_ to change his name as well.

Bae asked, “You'll still call me Bae, right?”

Rumple smiled. “If you want me to.”

“Like, whatever.”

“I promise not to do it in front of your friends.”

“What friends?”

“You'll make a lot of friends once we settle in.”

“Why? We're not sticking around.”

Mother Superior returned and saved Rumple from having to answer that with a lie.

“You can come with me, Neal. I'll take you to your class.”

They got up. Rumple fussed over his uniform for a little bit, though there was nothing for him to tuck in. For a hand-me-down, it was not bad. The sleeves were too long, but he'd have to fix that later.

“I'll come pick you up after school,” he said.

“Okay, dad.”

“Don't go off on your on,” he warned him, using a very firm tone that Baelfire usually listened to. “Wait for me. Inside.”

“I _know,_ dad. I'm not a baby.”

Mother Superior said, “Mr. Gold, we're on a tight schedule-”

“Yes, of course.” He gave Bae a tight hug. Despite the situation, he tried to sound optimistic. “I'm sure you'll have a great first day. Neal.”

 

*

 

The first thing his father did after the divorce was move to the other side of Boston and change his school. Bae didn't mind. He hadn't had a real friend since the 6th grade, which had something to do with the other parents' hatred for his mother and his own stupid decisions. Picking fights might not have been the most mature way to deal with what was happening at home, but it was still what he'd done. Maybe Milah was right, maybe he _did_ take after her explosive temper after all.

“You're just like me, baby,” she used to say, breathing Scotch on his face, yet sounding so proud and so maternal. “We're fighters, you and I. We don't bow our heads to anyone.”

Every time he visited, she still insisted, “You're _my_ son, Bae! You're much more mine than you are his! He won't know how to handle you! He's too weak!”

She continued to drink, too. It was a relief when her visitation rights were revoked.

For a little while, it seemed that things would work out. He'd been granted a fresh start, just as much as dad was. A new school, with teachers who were not disappointed in him, or classmates who stayed clear of him because he was trouble. And mom couldn't touch him, not until she got herself back together – and he dared hope she would.

Instead, mom started acting stupid and ruined what was shaping out to be a good thing. Dad moved him to another school. Then, to another apartment. It was no good. In the end, Bae lost his last two weeks of class before the Christmas break because they had to run away from Boston, Milah on their scent like a bloodhound. And she was growing angry. If she ever got a hold of them, there was no telling what she might do.

 _Two more months_ , Bae thought. _That's all we need, and then we're out of here._

Mother Superior opened a classroom door to her right and ushered him inside.

The teacher, a sweet looking woman with short hair and a heart-shaped face, smiled at him first, before looking at the Principal. Her clothes were conservative, but Bae didn't think she was a nun.

“Mother Superior, good morning,” she greeted.

Twenty chairs were pushed back and the students stood up, until Mother Superior ordered them back to their seats. Strict school.

“Neal, this is Miss Blanchard. She's going to be your Literature teacher.”

Miss Blanchard took a step forward to shake his hand, “Hello, Neal. Welcome to Storybrooke.”

There was a brief introduction, a variation of the same speech Baelfire was used to by now. New student, blah blah, big welcome, blah blah, be nice, blah blah, that's your seat, go learn something. And off the Principal went to do more important things.

Bae walked straight to his chair (back of the class, less memorable) and sat down before the teacher, Miss Blanchard, could get any ideas, such as-

“How about you tell us a little bit about yourself, Neal?”

Such as _exactly_ that. Why did teachers _always_ do that? Bae felt like saying, “Not really,” but held his tongue. That would come off as cheeky and, while that might make him popular with his classmates, the teacher wouldn't appreciate it. The last thing he needed was to start on the wrong foot with her. And he wasn't there to make friends anyway.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, getting up again. No big deal. He'd done that twice already in the past year. _Hi, I'm Bae, I was raised in Boston my whole life, my parents are divorced, I live with my dad, I really like comic books and drawing_. Except that... none of that was any good now. Dad had been adamant, don't give out too much information. Besides, he was Neal Cassidy, he was not Baelfire Gold. What did Neal like? “Hi... I'm B-Neal. I'm Neal...” what was his last name again? God, he should've studied this last night. “I'm Neal, and I'm from... Portland,” he said, naming the only other city he had ever visited. Though that had been two years ago, if Miss Blanchard asked him anything about it, he'd be in trouble.

“Portland, wow!”

Of course...

“That sounds exciting.”

“Yeah, it's kinda dull, actually. And, uhn, I like movies. And soccer.”

He looked around at the other kids, who were trying to figure him out. Most of them looked bored. The girl in front of him was resting her head on her hand and she looked ready to fall asleep. The guys sitting in the front row didn't even bother to turn around. He hoped nobody would ask questions but, as it turned out, Miss Blanchard was the kind of person who thought asking questions made you feel welcome, and said, “I bet Storybrooke looks so small compared to Portland.”

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Did you move here with your parents?”

“With my dad,” he said, and braced himself for another question, but Miss Blanchard was sensitive enough to avoid the subject.

“That's wonderful, Neal,” she said. “I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun here and make good friends.”

Neal said, “Thanks,” and tried to sit down, but then she said, “You know we have a soccer team?” and he shot back to his feet. It must have seemed funny because the kid sitting beside him chuckled.

 _Well, at least one of us is having a good time_.

“Uhn, cool, I guess,” Bae said, vaguely.

“You should try it.”

“...Why?”

“You said you like soccer.”

“Uhn, yeah...”

He thought of saying that he wasn't really into _playing_ soccer, just watching it on TV, but the boy sitting by his side – the one who thought it was _oh so funny_ to watch him leap to his feet like a circus animal – made a discreet, yet poignant gesture with a single finger, drawing a line across his throat. _Cut it short, cut it short, cut it short_.

“I will,” he said. “Thanks, Miss Blanchard.”

“You're welcome, Neal. Do you have all your books?”

Bae, who had just sat down a third time, actually tried to get up, but the guy beside him held on to his arm. A silent advice, and he took it.

“I-No, Miss Blanchard. Not yet.”

“It's alright, I'm sure Graham won't mind helping you out today, will you Graham?”

The kid at his side looked up. “It's fine, Miss B.”

“Good. So lets go back to page 84. Mulan, can you read the sonnet out loud, please?”

An Asian girl sitting to his left got up and started reading, in a monochord voice, “ _My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun_...”

In a whisper, Graham said, “Miss B is great. But if you let her, she'll interview you about your entire life.”

It took Neal a moment to realize he was speaking to him. “Ah. Cool. She's nice.”

“And you don't have to get up when she's speaking,” he continued. “She's pretty cool.”

“Okay.”

“You have to get up for Mr. Hader, though. He's super formal.”

“Uhnn...” Bae checked his schedule. “History?”

“Yup. He likes asking questions, too.”

“That's just awesome.”

Graham chuckled. “I can show you your way around if you'd l-”

“Graham!”

“Yes, Miss Blanchard,” he said, sitting up.

“Mulan is reading.”

“Right. Sorry, Miss B. I'll shut up.” And he pressed his lips together, to show that he meant it.

Mulan continued on, utterly unimpressed with Shakespeare. Neal waited for Graham to repeat his offer, but he didn't. Miss Blanchard might be nice, but he didn't want to upset her. Maybe she was the kind of teacher who wouldn't hesitate to send them to the Principal's office. Which was too bad, because Graham seemed nice. He wouldn't mind talking to him a little longer.

Miss Blanchard thanked Mulan rather enthusiastically and turned to the board. Neal took the chance and said, “I don't know where anything is. I'd like a little help. If you don't mind.”

 


End file.
